


Sunset's Rain

by lmeden



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-18
Updated: 2011-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmeden/pseuds/lmeden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco was in the library.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunset's Rain

**Author's Note:**

> For leela_cat. Happy Birthday!

Draco was in the library, his legs crossed under him and cramped, when he noticed. He looked up, letting his quill slip from his hand in surprise and splatter ink across his essay. He stood, staggering as circulation tried to rush back to his legs, and went to the window. Rain streaked down the panes, glowing in the evening lights and sending arabesques of light and shadow across the room. It was beautiful. Draco felt a smile stretch across his face.

He turned, glancing around the abandoned library, quiet except for the muttering of Pince at her desk, and left his things, rushing down the halls and to a side door leading onto Hogwarts’ lawns. He stepped out and away from the castle.

The rain was warm, of a kind that he hadn’t felt in years. He took a deep breath, sucking in the musky smell of the evening, all natural and thick. Cool drops pattered down his face and dripped from the tip of his nose; in the distance the light from the setting sun turned fiery.

It reminded him of home – of summer evenings spent picnicking in the gardens until the weather turned, of sneaking out to fly through the rain when he couldn’t bear even a single moment more stuck indoors. Draco let his eyes fall closed and smiled, desperate to be so young again.

When he opened his eyes again long moments later, his robes and shirt and trousers were soaked, the sunset gone dim, and someone was watching him. Harry Potter stood, apparently stopped mid-dash to the castle, books and parchments caught up in his arms and glasses askew. He blinked at Draco, his lips parted.

Draco hissed, his pleasure at the weather erased by churning anger, and something else. His hands clenched and his shoulders hunched as he turned to walk back into the castle.

“Draco, wait,” called a voice behind him.

Draco whirled and glared. “What do you want?”

“I just…please, can we talk somewhere…uh, more private?”

“No.” Draco was on the verge of justifying the demand, saying that he liked it out here and could damn well stay here if he pleased, but he bit back the words and threw back his chin. He wouldn’t give Potter that. Not like he had…

He turned his thoughts away from that path and stared back at Potter defiantly. Potter rolled his eyes and pursed his lips. “Oh, come on. I just want to talk, not _do anything_.”

Draco froze. “No,” he bit out, and began to walk away.  
Behind him, there was a wet slap, and Draco paused long enough to glance back and see that Potter had thrown all his books and parchments onto the ground.

“Fine,” Potter snapped. He strode forward and seized Draco’s arm, spinning him around. “We need to talk about this.”

“We do not, let me go.”

“No!” Potter was frighteningly determined, his eyes wild. He held Draco so close that he could feel the heat of Potter’s body beside him.

The sun had disappeared over Potter’s shoulder, leaving only the barest swirl of indigo in the clouds. The rain was turning cool, trailing over Draco’s ears and down the back of his neck.

He shivered. “ _What do you want?_ ”

Potter’s eyes closed; he appeared resigned, and very tired. Draco wondered if the lassitude was contagious, because he realized that he didn’t want to fight Potter; he didn’t want to struggle to run away, anymore. He just wanted some time in the rain, and some peace.

“I just—“ Potter opened his eyes and stared down at Draco.

He didn’t respond, and then with a jerk pulled Draco forward into an embrace, clasping his arms around him and burying his face into the curve of Draco’s neck. Draco froze, his lips parted. His thoughts spun; he didn’t want this, _couldn’t_ want this.

But the warmth of Potter’s body was turning the rain warm again, and Draco considered that, just perhaps, Potter was as lonely as he. He raised his arms and wrapped them around Harry, letting his hands rest at the curve of his back. He let his head fall onto Harry’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He leaned into the body that he knew so well, far better than he should, and hoped.


End file.
